


I’m a cool bodyguard, not one of those regular bodyguards

by cellardoor



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, F/M, Holiday Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3066050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoor/pseuds/cellardoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exchange gift for a (currently) unknown recipient based on a bodyguard AU prompt! Following some alarming events linked to Bishop Publishing, Kate's dad insists she have a personal bodyguard. Tommy is broke and needs a job. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m a cool bodyguard, not one of those regular bodyguards

**Author's Note:**

> Hello mysterious recipient of this gift! I hope you like it! :)
> 
> The full prompt: Bodyguard AU: after a threat on Bishop Publishing and the Bishop family, Kate's father insists that his daughters be protected by bodyguards for at least a few weeks. Kate insists that she doesn't need one, what with all the self-defense, combat and archery classes she's taken. Tommy, on the other hand, really needs a job. Even if the job is to look after a grumpy rich girl who at first doesn't want him there.
> 
> This is maybe the most ridiculous thing I've ever written? Gosh. Wow. I blame Laura entirely for egging me on in my disgrace.

Tommy’s life  _sucks_ .

Case in point: he is woken up by his brother unceremoniously throwing a slice of toast at his face, where he‘s sleeping in a ratty old blanket on a couch which - let’s face it - his brother has _probably_ had sex with his boyfriend on at some point. It’s their apartment. It happens. Hopefully not on the blanket, though, that’s _Tommy’s_. He really, really hopes not, anyway.  

“I buttered it for you,” Billy says abruptly, and stalks out the room.

Tommy blinks blearily, wipes a smear of butter from his face. “Is he pissed, or something?”

From the doorway, Teddy grimaces apologetically at him. “He’s pissed.”

Tommy sighs, but starts eating the toast. Breakfast is breakfast. Billy _did_ butter it for him, and it’s still warm. He stretches out his back from the too-small couch.

“Tell him I’m enjoying my passive aggressive breakfast,” Tommy says, through a mouthful of toast. “It tastes of recrimination.”

“Nope,” Teddy says, “tell him yourself. Not getting involved.”

“At least tell me what I did,” Tommy says. His cheek is sticky. Turns out toast lands butter side down even when it’s thrown at your face.

“We’ll talk later,” Teddy promises, rifling through his pockets. “Have you seen my keys? I need to get ready for work.”

“Boo-ooring,” Tommy sing-songs, which earns him a look that is more pitying than unimpressed. He doesn’t like it. “Take mine, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure?” Teddy says, eyebrow raised.

Tommy almost laughs. _Yeah_ , he’s sure. “I’m good for today,” he says, throwing them at Teddy. “Knock yourself out.”

Teddy retreats, and Tommy lets his head fall back onto the pillow.

 

-

 

He cleans the house, because it seems like the best thing to do. He washes all the dishes, vacuums, and wipes a bunch of stuff. He draws the line at washing their underwear, though.

He folds his blanket up as small as he can, and stuffs it behind the couch cushions. Then he gathers up the measly bunch of possessions he calls his own, cramming them into the sports bag that he’s been using the past few months, and puts it somewhere as out of sight as he can manage. Almost like he’s not been crashing on their couch for six weeks, that’s the aim.

It’s not how he imagined adulthood, but it’s fine. He’ll deal.

 

-

 

“You cleaned,” Billy says slowly, when he gets home from work. “You - thanks for that.”

Tommy salutes him from the couch, where he is deliberately not sprawling all over it and watching tv at a respectable volume. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Right,” Billy says, and he looks sort of awkward about it. “Look, Tommy, here’s the thing-”

“I get it,” Tommy says, “say the word and I’m gone, no problem.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Billy draws circles with his fingers on the back of the couch. “I’m not kicking you out.”

Tommy shifts in his seat. “Appreciated.” Billy sighs, and takes a seat next to him. Tommy eyes him sideways. “You look weird in a tie.”

Billy ignores that. “You can stay here as long as you need, it’s fine.”

“But?” Tommy wishes he’d just get to the _point_ already.

Billy hesitates. “But I don’t feel like you’re making an effort, that’s all.”

That’s fair, actually. He doesn’t normally vacuum or do the dishes, maybe he should. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Billy doesn’t seem as satisfied with that answer as he’d hoped.

“I’ll make the effort,” Tommy says, reaching for the remote. He turns the tv up. “Okay?”

Billy narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You want to me to clean some more? I can do that,” Tommy says. “You can even have sex on the couch when I’m not sleeping on it. I don’t mind.” It’s a lie. He does mind.

“That’s really not what I meant,” Billy says, turning pink, which is all the confirmation Tommy needs and wow, he wishes he’d never said anything. “If you need help applying for jobs, I can-”

“No,” Tommy says firmly. The last thing he needs is well-intentioned condescension from his brother the professional, who _apparently_ wears a tie now and looks like a total tool. “I’m good. I have something lined up, as it happens.”

“You do?” Billy looks tentatively impressed. “Well, that’s - that’s good.”

“Yep,” Tommy says, and turns the tv up a little more. “See? Everything under control.”

Billy looks incredibly dubious, but he nods slowly, which Tommy takes as a cue to start ignoring him and watching tv in earnest.

 

-

 

“Help,” Tommy says, “I lied to your boyfriend and implied I’d found a job, but I haven’t.”

Teddy sighs for at least five seconds, which is definitely overkill. “ _Tommy._ ”

“I need a job, like, as of yesterday.” Tommy rustles the paper in Teddy’s face. “There’s _nothing_. Help me.”

“There’s McDonalds?” Teddy suggests, which Tommy sniffs at. “They’re always looking.”

“I’m not flipping burgers.”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Teddy says mildly, who flipped burgers all through college, and then some. “Also, you don’t actually _flip_ burgers as per se, they tend not to let the cashiers deal with the food directly, so it’s more a case of picking up already packaged burgers and handing them-”

“I can’t work with food,” Tommy pleads, “you know how hard I find it when I can smell tasty things.”

“Of course,” Teddy says, fighting a grin. “So, food’s out.”

“Food is definitely out.”

Teddy hums thoughtfully. “Why don’t you call David? He’s always contracting out weird stuff, it could be kinda fun.”

“That,” Tommy says, “is actually a really great idea.” He grabs his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “I know you were good for something, Altman.”

“Thanks,” Teddy says dryly, but Tommy is already out the door.

 

-

 

“It’s not really your thing,” David tells him down the phone, disapproval clear in his voice. “You’ve got no experience.”

“I totally have experience!” Tommy protests. “I bounced at that club for six months!”

David sighs. “Did you just use ‘bounce’ as a verb?”

“It’s what I was doing, wasn’t it?”

“You were a _bouncer_. Noun.”

“It’s called _backforming_ , dipshit,” Tommy tells him smugly. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one. It’s legit linguistics.”

“It doesn’t work when it’s a pre-existing verb that means something completely different! You weren’t standing there literally bouncing up and down - look, my point is, you don’t have any relevant experience, and you’re kind of scrawny.”

“Excuse you,” Tommy says, “I am extremely, _extremely..._ not-entirely-scrawny. I have at least one muscle. Maybe two.”

“My point exactly.”

“I know my way around a tazer.”

“I think there’s a little bit more to being a bodyguard than that,” David says wearily. “Just a hunch.”

“David, please,” Tommy whines, stretching out the ‘please’ as long as he can before David starts protesting down the phone.

“Yeah, but if I put you forward, I’m giving my _personal recommendation_. What if you’re shit at it? Scratch that - _when_ you’re shit at it, then _I_ look bad. So no, that’s my final answer.”

“You owe me,” Tommy says slyly. “Remember when I was bouncing and I let you in ahead of the queue? Who was that guy you were with? He was _super_ pretty, I bet that scored you a bunch of points-”

“Fine,” David says loudly, “ _fine_. You get an interview. Okay?”

“You are a truly radiant creature,” Tommy says, “I’d bake you a cake if I could bake, but I can’t. How about I buy you a cake instead? Oh, wait, I don’t have a job -”

David hangs up with a groan.

 

-

 

“You’ve got to wear a suit,” Teddy says uncertainly, eyeing Tommy’s interview attire. “Suit and an earpiece, that’s what bodyguards wear. Right?”

“Uh, no way,” Tommy says. “I’m incognito. Casual. I’m a cool bodyguard, not one of those regular bodyguards.”

“You could at least wear a shirt and tie, that’s pretty standard interview wear for any job.”

“Nah, I got this,” Tommy gestures at his outfit. “The hoodie says, I’m fun to be around, and the leather jacket says, I’m secretly badass. Perfect bodyguard combination.”

“And the jeans?” Teddy raises an eyebrow.

“I have a practical and can-do attitude.”

“Please tell me you at least washed your hair.”

“Are you kidding?” Tommy admires his reflection in the screen of his phone. “It looks best on the second day, it does the thing where it sticks up at the back. It goes flat when I wash it.”

Teddy pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

 

-

 

As he walks into the building his first thought is that he definitely should’ve worn a suit. It’s fancy. It’s _really_ fancy.

Still, he’s committed now. Might as well own it.

After waiting in a fancy lobby, he’s ushered into an even fancier office where he shakes the hand of an incredibly fancy man.

“Mr. Shepherd?” The man says, and Tommy actually laughs in his face before he remembers how rude that might be considered.

“Tommy is fine,” he says, and racks his brains to remember the name of this guy. “Mr… Pope?”

“Bishop.”

“Right,” Tommy says, “Mr. Bishop. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re the colleague of Mr. Alleyne?” Mr. Bishops eyes flick down to his notes. 

“Yes,” Tommy says, making a mental note to yell at David later for not mentioning that particular embellishment. “We, uh, worked on a great deal of projects together. Very, um, important projects.” Mr. Bishop doesn’t look entirely sold, so Tommy leans forwards and wears his very best business expression. “I hear you’re looking to hire a bodyguard for your daughter?”

“Yes, I am,” Mr. Bishop says, somewhat relieved. “Well, not that I’d use the term bodyguard, really - but I suppose it’s essentially what I’m after.”

“What’s the situation?” Tommy says, particularly pleased with that bit of dialogue. Very official bodyguard lingo, probably.

“There have been several threats made against myself and my company, the most recent of which threatened my daughters. We weren’t taking them seriously initially, of course, but following recent events - well, I’m sure you saw on the news.”

Tommy didn’t see anything on the news. “Yes,” he says gravely. “Terrible business.”

“It’s my younger daughter I’m actually looking to hire someone for,” Mr. Bishop continues, “she’s so impulsive, I worry about her running off and doing something stupid.”

“So you need someone to... follow her around?”

“More or less.” Mr. Bishop sighs and offers Tommy some water. He thought these rich types kept whisky in their drawers, not Evian. This is extremely disappointing. “My own security can cover her at night, it’s really just during the day I’m hoping someone can keep an eye on her. Less of a bodyguard, and more of a… protective companion.”

“Sure,” Tommy says, suddenly very pleased with himself and his wise dressing choices. “Incognito, got it. I can do that.”

Mr Bishop gives him a very odd look. “You know, I think she’ll like you.”

Tommy beams at him hopefully. “Yeah?”

“So,” Mr. Bishop leans back in his chair. “Have you got experience in security?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says confidently, “I’m sure this won’t be too different.”

“What was it you worked as?”

“Security for, uh, a very exclusive establishment.” That’s not a lie. Not a _total_ lie. 

“I see.”

Tommy arranges himself on the chair in such a way as could definitely _suggest_ that he’s kinda bulky beneath all the layers. It’s definitely a possibility. “I’m sure looking after your daughter won’t be a challenge for me.”

“She’s a little difficult,” Mr. Bishop says dryly, “she can be… stubborn.”

“Sure, okay,” Tommy says, “so how old are we talking: eight, nine? I can play with lego if that’s what she wants. Lego is awesome.”

“Actually, she’s twenty-three,” Mr. Bishops says, and Tommy does a double take.

“Huh?”

“Kate?” Mr. Bishop raises his voice. “I’m know you’re out there listening, so you may as well come in.”

The door opens, and in comes a girl about fourteen years older than Tommy expected and - oh no. Tommy might actually die. She’s super _super_ pretty and looks like she both wants to and also _could_ kill him with her bare hands, which really shouldn’t be so attractive, but that’s just his luck. This isn’t fair and he’s going to die, and then come back to life and kill David for not warning him, and then die all over again because oh no, she’s hot. 

Okay, regroup, Tommy is allowing himself to have that thought for, like, ten seconds _max_ , before shelving it forcefully and permanently, because it’s an extremely unprofessional and inappropriate thought. Not his worst, admittedly, but it’s up there. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling with way too many teeth. He tries to drag his mind out of the gutter. He’s going straight to hell for this one. Probably.

“Kate,” Mr. Bishop says, “this is Mr. Shepherd, one of your prospective bodyguards.”

“Tommy,” he corrects, as Kate gives him an embarrassingly thorough once-over. “Hi.”

“You going to hire him?” Kate says, folding her arms. “The one in the suit looked more professional. Also, how old are you, twelve?”

Tommy bristles indignantly. “ _Twenty-two_ -”

“Perhaps we should discuss this once Mr. Shepherd’s interview is over-”

“I didn’t like the suit one,” Kate declares, “I like this one.”

Tommy puffs out his chest at that, but Mr. Bishop looks less than convinced. “Mr. Reynolds had a very impressive resume-”

“Yeah, _no_. If we have to go through with this ridiculous charade, then I want the cute one. End of discussion.”

Mr. Bishop looks even more alarmed at that. “As I said, perhaps we should discuss this later-”

“You’re hired,” Kate tells Tommy, with a shark-like grin, and strides out the room before her dad can protest further. 

Tommy stands awkwardly rooted to the spot. “Er -”

“You heard her,” Mr. Bishop says wearily, “tomorrow at nine.”

Tommy blinks in surprise, but gives him a thumbs up. “Can do.” 

Mr. Bishop waves him away, only to call after him before he’s out the door: “I expect nothing less than excellent, professional service from you, Mr. Shepherd.”

Tommy gulps. Was he too obvious? He hopes he wasn’t too obvious.  Oh, god. “Of course.”

“Your resume didn’t particularly impress me, but no doubt you can redeem yourself.”

“I intend to,” Tommy says fervently, and scuttles out the door before he can change his mind.

Outside, Kate is waiting for him. He tries to nod at her professionally, but she grabs him by the collar and pulls him round the corner. Not helping his inappropriate thought processes.

“Okay,” she says, pushing him against the wall, “here’s the deal: I don’t need a bodyguard. I can look after myself just fine. But my dad is having kittens, so whatever, I’ll go along with it until this all blows over.” She prods Tommy in the chest. “Do what you have to, but if you interfere in my life, you’ll be sorry. Understand?”

“Gotcha,” Tommy says weakly, “I won’t - I need this job, man, I’m so broke -”

“Great,” she says sweetly, releasing him. “We have an understanding, then?”

Tommy nods. “Yes ma’am.”

Kate narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yes - uh, Ms. Bishop.”

“I kinda like that,” she muses, “but Kate is fine.” She winks - _winks_ \- at him, and dashes off round the corner.

Tommy lets his head fall back against the wall, and tries desperately to process the last fifteen minutes. His conclusion is along the lines oh ‘well, shit.’

 

-

 

“You’re a _bodyguard_?” If Billy was anymore disbelieving, Tommy might consider being offended.

“Yep.” He reaches for another slice of pizza. “A bodyguard. Kate Bishop, very famous. You should google her.”

Billy whips out his phone furiously and does exactly that. “You’re not qualified to be a bodyguard.”

“I beg to differ,” Tommy says, pointing a pepperoni at Billy, “given that I am _literally_ a bodyguard, and thus by definition incredibly qualified.”

“Does it work like that?” Teddy is amused. “How did you even swing this one?”

“My natural charm and charisma. I don’t appreciate your tone, Altman.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s a total brat and doesn’t even want a bodyguard,” Tommy confesses, “she told her dad to hire me specifically, but then cornered me after the meeting and scared the _shit_ out of me, about how I need to not interfere with her life or something, I dunno if she _hates_ me, or - ” He pauses, hums. “She did say I was cute, though.”

“She _is_ famous,” Billy says, gawping at his phone. “And pretty,” he adds, levelling a very accusatory stare at Tommy.

Tommy makes a noncommittal hum. “Sure.”

“Ha.” Billy leans back in his seat with a satisfied expression. “I _knew_ it.”

“She is my _client_ ,” Tommy says, in a scandalized tone. “It hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

Billy eyes him consideringly. “Two weeks, I give it. What do you think, Teddy? Care to outbid me?”

“Uh, guys, you’re insulting my professional integrity here, I won’t stand for it.”

Teddy holds his hands up. “I‘m staying out of this.”

“Two weeks,” Billy repeats, and Tommy hisses indignantly.

“No! You’re wrong. I’ll prove you wrong.”

“We’ll see,” Billy says smugly, grabbing one last slice and walking backwards out the room. “We will _see_.”

“We’ll see nothing, asshole,” Tommy bellows after him, Teddy cracking up.

“Really?’ Teddy says, eyebrow politely raised.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tommy says, with wounded dignity, which only makes Teddy grin harder.

“Oh, Tommy.”

“Don’t ‘oh Tommy’ me,” he says, pointing a finger at him. “I do actually know what’s appropriate in this situation, _believe it or not_ , and I have no intention of - of - what does he even think I’ll do? Make a move on my client? I do actually want this job, you know. Besides, it’s _him_ banging the guy from HR.”

Teddy has the good grace to blush. “It happens.”

“Not to me,” Tommy declares, “you'll see."

 

-

 

He’s ushered into another fancy room first thing the next morning, where there’s a lot of signing paperwork and solemn nodding, and he should probably pay attention. 

He forgets to pay attention.

“Any questions?” Mr. Bishops says eventually, and Tommy looks up blearily. “Mr. Shepherd? Questions?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward eagerly. “Do I get an earpiece?”

He doesn’t get an earpiece.

 

-

 

He’s left outside Kate’s door, where he stands unsurely for a few minutes before knocking very officially. An official bodyguard knock. She pries it open minimally and glares at him through the crack.

“No,” she says finally, after a long pause. “I’m not done sleeping. Go away.”

“But-” he starts, but the door is slammed in his face. He knocks officially again.

“Go. Away.”

“I’ll just sit out here?” He suggests, to unencouraging silence. “Okay, then. I’ll just be outside if you nee-”

“ _Shut up_.”

Tommy stares at the closed door and thinks really mean thoughts. Then, resigned, he slides down the wall and makes himself (un)comfortable on the hard (though undoubtedly, expensive) carpet. He swiped Billy’s iPod, loaded with tower defence games aplenty, in preparation for moments just like this.

After an hour or so, he starts to feel a little uncomfortable with this set up. Is she even in there? He wouldn’t put it past her to give him the slip already, and that has to be a firable offence. 

He knocks on the door. “Ms. Bishop?” Nothing. “Kate?” Resounding silence. He knocks harder.

Oh, god. She’s given him the slip. 

He swings the door open in blind panic. Her bed is neat, perfectly made, and her room horrifyingly empty. Where did she even go? How could she get out? 

The balcony door is ajar - Tommy dashes to it in terror and throws it open to find - 

\- Kate, stretched out on a sun lounger, reading a magazine over the top of her sunglasses.

“Plus five points for attentiveness,” she says without looking at him, “but minus ten for not respecting my privacy.”

Tommy might actually strangle her. “It’s my _job_.”

“You’re still in the negatives,” she says, glaring haughtily at him, “don’t push it.”

He works his jaw. “ _Fine_. I’ll be outside-”

“No need,” she says sweetly, folding the magazine away. “I’m ready to go.”

“Ready to go where?”

“Literally _anywhere_.” Kate pushes her sunglasses up onto her head. “I’ve been under house arrest for over a week.” She shoots Tommy a sly sideways glance. “Lucky me, now I have my big, strong bodyguard to protect me.”

Tommy grumbles, but accepts it for the vague peace offering it is. “Fine, fine. Where d’you want to go?”

Kate beams at him with an edge of something terrifying. “Let’s go shopping.”

 

-

 

She’s trying to give him the slip, there’s no other explanation for it. She dashes deliberately between the racks of clothing as haphazardly as she can, darting behind and around everything she possibly can, and it’s all he can do not to lose sight of her entirely.

Finally, with an armful of clothes, she declares it time to hit the changing rooms, and Tommy sinks gratefully into one of the designated waiting chairs outside. 

Five minutes later, a girl wearing a large brimmed hat and a jacket zipped up to her nose tries to sidle past him. Tommy sighs, and grabs her by the elbow.

“Did you really think that would work?”

Kate smirks at him from under the brim. “Two points. You’re very alert today.”

“Suuuure. You were just testing me.”

“Both points deducted for attitude,” she says in a sing-song voice, and Tommy scowls. He doesn’t care about her stupid points. (But yet, he would quite like to at least break out the negatives. Not that it _matters_.)

She disappears again, and his fingers itch for his phone, but he doesn’t dare peel his eyes away. 

The next time she’s wearing an oversized parka and an enormous pair of sunglasses, slouching slightly. Tommy just raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

She doesn’t quite manage a playful smirk this time, clearly fighting not to let her frustration show.

“Only one point for that,” she snaps, “it wasn’t a good disguise anyway.”

Tommy wisely keeps his mouth shut.

 

-

 

The whole day is nothing short of a nightmare.

After no less than twenty further escape attempts, ranging from the ridiculous (trying to climb out the toilet window) to the even more ridiculous (trying to crawl away underneath the table while they’re eating lunch) Tommy finally curtails their mall trip by hailing a cab, which she immediately tries to scoot across the the back seat and exit through the opposite door. 

Somehow, they make it home. Tommy needs to sleep for at least a thousand years.

“Minus _twenty_ ,” she hisses, before slamming her bedroom door in his face. He supposes he deserved that, but also - he’s only doing his _job_. 

He lets his head fall against the wall, where he stays until his shift is officially over.

 

-

 

“Hey,” Billy says, holding out a box of noodles. “How was your da-”

“I’m on minus thirty seven and I hate her,” Tommy says, grabbing the box. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Minus thirty seven what?” Teddy asks.

“I don’t know,” Tommy howls, leaving the kitchen as they both stare after him in bewilderment. “I don’t even _know_.”

 

-

 

He nearly doesn’t even show the next morning, but after Billy tentatively pokes his head round the door with a large pot of coffee, he figures he owes it to him to give it a decent shot.

Kate is waiting for him in the lobby, held back from the door by her dad’s own bodyguards. She looks about two minutes away from punching them in the face, and more relieved to see Tommy than his brain can currently compute.

“I’m buying you breakfast,” she tells him, and grabs him by the arm. “Tell them I’m allowed out now.”

“I, uh, I got this,” he says, and the two bodyguards give him matching official nods, much better than any of his official nods. They have suits. And _earpieces_. Tommy is affronted.

 

-

 

“Please don’t quit,” Kate says, slapping a croissant down on the table in front of him, as if delicious pastry reinforces her demand. Which it… sort of does, to be honest. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

Tommy nods slowly. “Right.”

“It was shitty.”

He can’t argue with that. “I thought about it,” he confesses.

“But you came back,” Kate says, raising an eyebrow. “Glutton for punishment?”

“I told you,” Tommy says, reaching for the croissant. “I’m broke.”

“Have you done this before? The bodyguard thing?”

“Nope,” Tommy says cheerfully, “you’re my first.” And then, because he apparently can’t control himself, wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at her. “Be gentle.”

“Whoops,” Kate says, utterly unapologetic, and grins. “Look, I really _am_ sorry. I pulled that routine with the last two, and they both quit within a week.”

“The _last two_?”

“I know you think I’m just a whiny rich girl,” she continues, “but it _sucks_. I’ve not been allowed to go to my own apartment in weeks. I’m twenty-three, I should be able to make decisions about my own life.” She sets her jaw and glares at him, daring him to disagree.

“No, totally, I get it,” Tommy says earnestly, “I really do. I don’t want to stop you doing anything - all I’m contractually obliged to do is to make sure you’re safe doing it.”

Kate drums her fingers on the table. “I honestly didn’t think he’d _actually_ hire you. He’s messing with me.”

Tommy should probably be offended at that, but he shrugs. “I’m not complaining, it’s good money.”

“Okay,” Kate says, and eyes him thoughtfully. “This can work.”

“Depends,” Tommy says, “are you going to try escape under the table again?”

Kate’s cheeks turn pink. “No.”

“Then sure,” Tommy beams at her, “this can work. I don’t have to tell your dad what you do, or where you go. You do whatever, just let me tag along.”

She frowns. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.” Tommy promises.

Her grin is a little scary. “Deal,” she says, and holds out her hand. 

 

-

 

It turns out that where she really wants to go is the archery range, which is fine by Tommy. There is a very comfy viewing gallery where he can put his feet up and chill. She even buys him a whole bunch of snacks from the vending machine, shoving the coins in aggressively. He has the feeling she gets a kick out of spending her dad’s money. He also gets the feeling she enjoys wasting it even more, which is why she buys him more candy than he could possibly eat. He’ll give it his best shot, even so.

Kate is lethal with a bow and arrow. He doesn’t know why this surprises him, but he actually drops his popcorn and yelps when she takes her first shot. He is mesmerized the whole session, in a pleasantly terrified sort of way.

“Holy _shit_ ,” is all he says to her afterwards, and she grins back at him, pleased with herself.

 

-

 

He drops her off at the end of his shift, Kate wrinkling her nose at the sight of the other security guards. Earpiece assholes.

“I asked your dad for an earpiece,” he tells her, for no particular reason. “He said I couldn’t have one.”

She looks at him, amused. “He’s not taking you seriously at all.”

Tommy sighs wryly. “I’m getting that.”

“I think he honestly hired you just to mess with me,” Kate says incredulously. “Unbelievable.”

“Like I’ve said, it’s working out fine for me.”

“Good.” Kate folds her arms. “This is going to work out great. You get paid, I get to mess with _him._ ”

“How? By me _not_ quitting?”

Kate has a distinctly mischievous look about her. “Something like that.”

“My future apartment deposit thanks you,” Tommy says, and high fives her. It’s probably unprofessional to agree to exploit your employer with your client.

“Okay,” she says, pausing at the threshold to narrow her eyes at him consideringly. “I’ll give you ten points for today.” So they’re still doing the points thing, then.

“Only ten?” He says, with a winning grin. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Kate says dryly, and disappears inside.

Tommy hopes he didn’t just flirt with her, because that would be inappropriate. Not to mention bizarre, given that last night he would’ve happily pelted her with rotten apples.

He really should’ve gotten a damn desk job.

 

-

 

Billy and Teddy are waiting for him with matching anxious expressions and a plate full of cookies, because they’re idiots. He’s already crashing on their couch, they really don’t need to extend any further hospitality. It makes him sort of uncomfortable.

“Hi,” Billy says cautiously, pushing the plate towards him. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” Tommy says, and they both breathe a synchronised sigh of relief.

It’s like they’re his freaking _parents_ sometimes, honestly.

 

-

 

“So why can’t you go to your apartment?” Tommy asks, as Kate expresses her utter hatred for her bedroom for the thousandth time. “Your dad’s security could guard you there, right?”

“It’s ‘not safe’,” Kate snorts, drawing a card. They’re sprawled out across her floor playing gin rummy. She’s kicking his ass. “He wants me to move.”

“What _happened_?”

“You don’t know?” Kate sounds surprised. “That’s - oh. Okay.” She looks sort of pleased. “There was a - it was _fine_ , whatever my dad says, I had it under control - but this guy broke in, and I seriously would’ve handled it if his stupid security hadn’t interfered.”

“Go on.”

“So I hear them break in, I sneak through to the kitchen to grab something heavy, and I’m hiding round the side of the kitchen door ready to knock them out with a pan-”

“A _pan_.”

“I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re only laughing because you’ve never been hit in the face with a pan,” Kate says, narrowing her eyes. “That shit _works_. Anyway, I’ve got my pan ready, and I’m about to smack him in his ugly mug, when in come his piece of crap security and it all goes to hell.” She sighs. “I did get him in the face, though.”

“I’m not doubting the pan, I’m doubting the idea that you don’t routinely carry a bow and arrow, or something equally lethal. So, he got away?”

“Yeah,” Kate says, making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “If my dad hadn’t put a detail on me _without my knowledge,_ I would’ve had them on a plate for him. So I refused to deal with his security anymore, and… here you are.”

“And feeling less and less qualified to be here as each day passes,” Tommy says, discarding a card. “I’ll knock.” They spread their cards out. “ _Shit_. How’re you even doing this?”

Kate grins, gathers the cards for a reshuffle. “I’m pretty sure they won’t try it again, I think I broke his noses. Also, obviously,” she flutters her eyelashes obnoxiously at him, “my big strong bodyguard will protect me.”

Tommy ignores that. This job is doing nothing for his ego. “And this is all because of your dad’s company?”

“Something like that.” Kate pulls a face. “So now he won’t let me go back to my apartment, he’s insisting that I _move_ , and won’t even let me work. It sucks.”

“Work?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Kate raises an eyebrow. “I’m… a private investigator. Sort of.”

Tommy can’t stifle his grin. “‘Sort of’?”

“I’m just getting started, okay?” Kate huffs, glaring at him. “I wanted to find these idiots, but my dad shut that down.” She looks mutinous. “I’m _not_ moving. I have everything the way I want it.”

A very dangerous thought is forming in Tommy’s brain. “Could you, though? Find them, I mean.”

“Maybe,” Kate says, slowly starting to grin. “You wanna try?”

Well, it beats being thrashed at rummy.

 

-

 

“When I said I’d help,” Tommy hisses, “I didn’t mean _sneaking into my boss’s office_ -”

“Just start looking,” Kate says firmly. “He’s only in the board meeting five more minutes.”

“Oh god, oh god,” Tommy moans, opening and closing drawers frantically. “I’m going to get _fired_. After _three days_ , oh god-”

“Shut up and _look_.” Kate is flicking through his diary. “It’s on plain paper, it was folded three times.”

“That is so vague,” Tommy mutters, but starts dutifully scrabbling around the desk. “Why do we even - _do you hear that?_ " The footsteps of his impending unemployment, that is. He hasn’t even been paid yet.

"Shit. Okay, okay, we need a plan." Kate looks around desperately. "Get under the desk."

Tommy opens and shuts his mouth fruitlessly a few times. "What?"

Kate starts pushing the top of his head down, and not in a sexy way. Sadly. "Get _under."_

_"_ But that's where his feet go!"

" _Tommy_."

Tommy whimpers but obeys, because he's all out of options at this juncture. He curls up in the cramped footwell of his boss's desk and thinks about how he's going to get fired in the least dignified position ever. Fuck everything. 

Mr. Bishop enters just as Kate has closed all the drawers and hurriedly straightened everything on his desk. 

"I need to talk to you," she says, footsteps crossing the room. "It's important."

"What are you doing in my office? The door was locked."

"Barely," Kate scoffs, before seemingly realizing the error of this reply. "Er, it’s important. Fiona let me in."

“I see,” Mr. Bishop says gravely, “I’ve been expecting this conversation.”

Tommy can see Kate’s feet do a confused little shuffle. “You… have?”

“Yes,” Mr. Bishop continues, “I know this must be hard for you, but I think we’ve all learned an important lesson here.”

“We - what?”

“The Shepherd boy,” he says, and Tommy rolls his eyes aggressively at the underside of the table. He’s been getting that moniker for _years_ , he’s so bored of it already. He’ll be calling him ‘Thomas’ next, just wait. “It’s very big of you to admit you made a mistake, I can call Reynolds and have him here tomorrow morning -”

“I did _not_ make a mistake!” Kate says indignantly, which Tommy appreciates. “That’s not what I’m here for!”

“No?” Her dad sounds disappointed. Tommy is feeling less and less inclined to like him the more he says. It wasn’t even a _pity_ hiring. It was a ‘teach my daughter a lesson’ hiring. That’s... really shitty.

“Tommy’s great," Kate says stoutly, and Tommy grins from under the desk.

"Then what _is_ so important?" Mr. Bishop says, clearly disgruntled. Tommy sees his feet start to cross the room and nearly squeals.

Kate grabs her dad’s arm. "Wait! It's - it's - I’m worried there’s a damp problem in the hallway! I thought I saw a crack in the plaster!"

Really? That's the best she can do?

Tommy can hardly believe it, but it does the trick. They both hurry out and he takes his chance, scrambling over to the door and peeping very carefully round the edge. They’re at one end of the hallway in deep contemplation of the plasterwork, backs to him. Tommy turns and makes a dash for it.

 

-

 

It turns out that Kate did manage to find the mysterious letter, after all. She unfolds it reverently and spreads it across the table, both of them leaning in eagerly.

This anonymous letter is the threat her dad received prior to the break in at Kate’s apartment, and has since refused to let her see. In Kate’s mind, it is the key to everything. 

It’s a huge disappointment. A single sheet of paper with three lines of printed Times New Roman, all capitals. _PLEASE CALL YOUR DAUGHTER’S INVESTIGATION OFF AND WE WILL NOT PURSUE THE MATTER FURTHER._

“Well, that clears precisely _nothing at all_ up,” Tommy says. “Good plan.”

“I've no idea what that could even _mean_.”

“Could it be your sister?”

“Doubt it,” Kate says, “it was _my_ apartment that got broken into. Besides, she’s not likely to know anything warranting a threatening anonymous letter.”

Is it just him, or does Kate actually look proud that she _does_? “So, what have you been investigating?”

“Nothing!” Kate throws her hands up. “I’ve not had any cases! This one lady lost her _cat_ , to give you an idea of the exciting and dangerous things I’ve been doing lately. It’s a great story, actually - turns out her upstairs neighbour had lured it in with tuna to piss off her roommate’s boyfriend, who was _allergic_ -”

“You investigate _lost cats_?”

“I’m new, okay,” Kate hisses, “I need to get my foot in the door - and anyway, that’s not the point. The point is unless this cat is freaking _Macavity_ , there's absolutely nothing I’ve been looking into for _months_ that's even the slightest bit scandalous or mysterious, end of.” She glares at the letter. “Why wouldn’t he let me see this?”

“Because he’s _met_ you, probably,” Tommy says, amused. “There’s no way in hell you’re letting this go now.”

Kate sets her jaw in a way that tells him he is absolutely correct.

 

-

 

Tommy is assigned with combing her browser history, which is nowhere near as interesting and scandalous as he was hoping.  He’s propped up on her bed scrolling mindlessly on her laptop, and he is _bored_. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for. Just something she could’ve stumbled on that would annoy a mysterious entity. This is stupid. He tells Kate as much, but she waves him away.

“You looked at cat photos for _three hours_ ,” Tommy says despairingly. “Nobody needs that many cat photos.”

“You can just say it,” Kate tells him, not even looking up. “You were hoping for something filthy.”

“I was not.”

“You were, I saw it in your eyes.” She flicks the side of his head. “They lit up with glee when I said you should go through my history. Do I disappoint you?”

“Just not that into cats,” Tommy says, which is a.) a lie, cats are awesome, and b.) he actually was sort of hoping for something incriminating.

“What _are_ you into?” Kate says, and Tommy tries exceptionally hard not to grin lewdly.

“Well, seeing as how you’re asking -”

“Seriously, Tommy.” Kate smacks his shoulder. “So far, all I know about you is that you love food-”

“Very true.”

“- and that you’re broke.”

“That’s pretty much me in a nutshell,” Tommy tells her, which does not appear to be a satisfactory answer, because she’s frowning at him.

“Where do you live?” She demands, turning to sit cross-legged on the bed where she can face him in all her intimidating glory. Tommy sighs.

“I’m not that interesting.”

“Where,” she repeats firmly, “ _do you live_?”

“Nowhere,” Tommy says, “I’m crashing on my brother and his boyfriend’s couch. See? Not interesting.”

Kate continues staring at him. He doesn’t like it. “See? I didn’t even know you had a brother.”

“Twin,” Tommy corrects, because it seems important. “And why would you?” He pointedly turns back to the laptop.

“Are you identical?”

She’s _impossible_ when she’s decided she wants to do something. Impossible. He snaps the laptop shut with a frustrated sigh. “ _No._ ”

“How come you’re crashing with him?”

“Because I’m _broke_ , remember?”

“What about your parents?”

“Never met ‘em,” Tommy says brightly, “and I haven’t seen my foster parents since I was ten.”

Kate looks guilty now, which is ridiculous, and precisely why he really can’t be bothered with sharing sessions. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says shortly, “it’s a pretty nice couch.”

Kate can’t take a hint. “So, d’you want to get your own place?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tommy snorts. “Of _course_. They have _showers_ together. Sometimes it’s not even in a sex way, they just stand there and talk about their freaking grocery list, I swear to god.”

“Can I meet them?”

“ _No_ ,” Tommy says vehemently. “Absolutely not.”

Kate smiles in that way she has that means she’s letting him think he’s agreeing with her. He groans.

 

-

 

Kate declares the next day shopping day, which Tommy can’t help but approach with trepidation, despite assurances that she will _not_ be donning any disguises or trying to escape. Apparently, this is a legit, for real shopping trip, in which she needs to actually literally buy a dress. Tommy is to provide not only bodyguard-ly services, but also _opinions_. Which he is dreading, because said dress is for a super fancy party her dad is having, and he knows absolutely nothing about super fancy dresses.

He flips a label over casually as she browses and nearly screams at the price. He could buy a _car_ with that. Tommy really wants a car. He flips it back over and mimes incredulity at Kate, who rolls her eyes.

“He’s paying.”

“And I’m underpaid, clearly,” Tommy mutters as Kate thrusts a pile of dresses at him.

“Earn your keep then,” she says brightly, “you can carry these ones.”

This was not in the job description.

Neither was squeezing awkwardly into a small, mirrored cubicle under strict instruction to zip her up, but he can’t think of a polite way to refuse. It’s just kind of hard not to feel like a total creep when he’s practically breathing down her neck and can see her _underwear_ \- not to sound like a scandalised grandparent, or anything, but he can’t pretend like he’s harboring only entirely platonic feelings for her. He feels strangely dishonest, but what are his options?

Kate, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care. He tries to follow her lead.

“Okay, so,” she says, “I’m going for ‘I am ultimately disdainful of this event but made the effort anyway,’ what do you think?”

“It’s purple,” Tommy says uselessly, “purple is nice.”

“Dad hates purple.”

“Then it’s awesome,” Tommy says, and Kate grins.

“Seriously, though. What d’you think?”

“It’s very… swoosh?” Tommy offers. 

“Very swoosh,” Kate repeats. “I - actually, that’s sort of the idea.” She gives him a little spin; it is indeed, very swoosh. “You’ll have to come.”

“What?”

“Do you have a suit?” Kate looks up at him with an expression of dawning delight. “Oh my god, I need to see it. I need to see you trying to be smart.”

“ _No_.”

“Well, tough shit.” Kate pokes him in the chest. “You’re my bodyguard, and you’ve gotta dress fancy and protect me from the rich boys.” She spins round again. “Unzip.”

He unzips her dutifully, eyeing the rest still on the hangers. “Are they all purple?”

“Yes,” Kate says gleefully, beaming at her own reflection. “Next one, close your eyes.”

“Wh-”

“Shut ‘em, Shepherd.”

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut hurriedly. “I could’ve just left.”

“This is quicker,” she says, and elbows him. He nearly topples backwards out the curtain.

“This wasn’t in the job description,” he says.

“Zip me,” she instructs, and he opens his eyes tentatively. 

“What do you do when there’s no one to help?”

“Contort myself into unnatural positions and swear a lot,” Kate says, which - okay, fair enough. “What about this one?”

“I like it better,” Tommy says, which feels like a useful thing to say. He hopes that she’s already pre-judged their formality level because he hasn’t got a clue beyond ‘there are a lot of numbers on the price tag.’

“Do you think it needs a bra?”

Tommy blinks rapidly. “See, now you’re _trying_ to make me uncomfortable.”

“I’m serious! Look, I’ll take it off and you can say if you think -”

“No!” Tommy yelps, “I - nope. I’m leaving.” 

He pushes back through the curtain, Kate poking her head round and calling after him. “Tommmyyyyyyyyy. You said you’d help!”

“Your boobs, your problem,” he yells back at her, earning himself a horrified look from a nearby shop assistant. 

He can hear Kate laughing from inside the dressing room.

 

-

 

It’s Tommy’s day off. Billy and Teddy are out and he’s going to lie on the couch all day in his underwear and eat pizza, and no one can stop him. It’s going to be _great_.

The doorbell rings, and he dashes to the door ready to collect his pizza and get his wild one-person party started. 

It’s not the pizza guy. It’s Kate. 

“Hi,” she says, taking in his well-worn boxers and mismatched socks with a sweeping glance. “Nice.”

Tommy splutters in her face for a good few seconds before he manages an indignant: “what?!”

“I looked up your address,” she says, “thought I’d swing by.”

“But your dad’s security-”

“- are too slow,” she finishes, and beams widely at him. “Can I come in?”

“No,” Tommy says half-heartedly, but she ignores him completely and walks right in.

“Is your brother home?” She asks, hanging her coat up on the hooks like she’s a regular. 

“No.”

“So you’re just... home alone in your underwear?”

“It’s my day off,” Tommy says mournfully, “I can do what I want.”

A look of horror crosses over Kate’s face. “Oh _god_ , I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Yes,” Tommy says, with all the sarcasm he can muster. “Because the ‘why don’t you come back to my brother’s couch’ is such a _great_ line.”

“Just checking,” Kate says, and the doorbell rings again. “Excellent, pizza!”

Tommy would protest, but she pays, so he clamps his mouth shut and tries to bring himself round to the idea of sharing. He directs her to the now infamous couch - apparently - and has an intense internal struggle between ‘it’s my day off and I don’t have to wear clothes if I don’t want to’ and ‘I really should probably put pants on.'

Kate helps herself to his blanket and his pizza and he watches her shrewdly. “Why are you here?”

“Why not?”

That’s not an answer, but _fine_. She can keep her secrets. He sighs. “What are we watching?”

She snatches the remote from him gleefully.

 

-

 

Billy and Teddy are politely confused to find Tommy and a mysterious girl curled up on the couch when they arrive home. It’s entirely possible they might have the wrong idea. Kate's legs are draped across him as her head rests on his shoulder, which he probably shouldn't be indulging but she smells good and he has no willpower. Also, Tommy isn't wearing pants. Because fuck pants, it's his day off.

“Er, I’ll just leave -” Billy says, backing out the door uncertainly, and Tommy sighs lengthily.

“Billy - Kate, Kate - Billy. Kate, this is my brother, Billy, this is my insufferable client with boundary issues.”

“Hi,” Billy says, “we’ve heard so much -” Tommy glares at him. “- _absolutely nothing_ about you. Not a thing. Nice to meet you.” He flaps his hand in her general direction, because he’s useless. “You’re famous. I googled you. I mean, hi. Hello. Um.”

Kate looks utterly charmed. “Oh my god, you guys looks _exactly the same_.”

“Urgh, no,” Billy and Tommy protest together, and behind him, Teddy looks delighted.

“I thought it was your day off?” Teddy says, very politely. 

Tommy huffs. “It _is_.” 

“I just didn’t feel safe without him,” Kate says solemnly, and Tommy smacks her over the head with a cushion. Billy’s eyes widen. 

“Want some pizza?” Tommy asks, and they both scoot into the room like the scandal-seeking missiles they are. Nothing to do with the promise of pizza, he guarantees it.

He still doesn’t think this was Kate’s sole motivation in showing up on his doorstep, but the grin on her face suggests it was a contributing factor. 

“You’re the worst,” he mutters, and she pinches his cheek.

 

-

 

“So did you find it?” Teddy says, leaning forward eagerly. “The thing you’re supposed investigating?”

“Zip, zilch, nada,” Kate says. “We couldn’t find anything.”

“Do you have security cameras at your apartment?” Billy asks. They’re both getting _way_ too into this. 

“Only in the lift, and we got nothing.”

“Maybe you should just move,” Tommy says, earning a glare. 

“That’s not a solution!” Kate says hotly, and Billy and Teddy hum in agreement. Whose side are they on? “If I could just think of a way to contact them…”

“Hey, that’s an idea,” Teddy says, and Tommy’s head snaps up warily. Teddy’s plans are few and far between, but devastatingly awful, in his opinion. “How about you go back to your apartment for a night? Make a huge big deal about moving back in, bang around a lot - they might try again.”

Oh _no_. Kate’s buying it. She’s totally buying it. “But we’d be ready.”

“Exactly! You could set up cameras as well, so even if you didn’t get them-”

Tommy tries, with great awareness of the irony, to be the voice of reason. “Yeah, your dad’ll go for _that_.”

“We’ll have to lie to him,” Kate says firmly, before turning back to Teddy. “You think I should tell all my neighbours I’m moving back ? Make it clear to everyone what the date will be?”

“Yeah!” Billy chimes in, all excitement and enthusiasm. Asshole. “You need to give them a few days notice, really, if you want to be sure they’ll show-”

“Guys? Really?” Tommy says weakly, but they’re already talking over him. “Are we really doing this?”

Kate pats his leg appeasingly and hands him another slice of pizza.

 

-

 

She overstays her welcome a little - not that it was ever there, technically speaking. Billy and Teddy have shuffled off to bed and Tommy is starting to yawn. 

Kate fidgets for a bit, before shooting Tommy a guilty look. “It’s my sister’s wedding today.”

“You are _joking_.” 

“I didn’t feel like it,” she says defiantly, “she’s been really weird about it.”

“That’s weddings for you,” Tommy says, fighting another yawn. “Will she be mad?”

Kate hums. “For a bit.”

“Where’re you going to say you’ve been all day?”

“Haven’t decided,” Kate says with a shrug. “I’ll keep you out of it, don’t worry.”

“Appreciated.”

There’s a short silence. She’s still not showing any sign of leaving. “Can I stay?”

“Why?” Tommy blurts out, before he can check himself. “I mean, yeah. If you really want. But I’ve only got half a couch to offer, you should’ve crashed someone else’s place.”

“You’re the only person who didn’t know where I was supposed to be today,” Kate says, and it takes Tommy a good five seconds to work out why that disappoints him so much. He was hoping for more of a ‘I wanna get naked with you’ than a ‘it made tactical sense.’ He’s irrepressible. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, as Kate kicks off her shoes and wriggles in to lie down besides him. “They tell you not to take your work home, you know.”

She turns her head to face him with a mock hurt expression. “Am I really _work_?”

“Yes,” he tells her fervently, “you are.”

He really wants to kiss her and make terrible innuendos about doing her on his desk. He doesn't kiss her.

She falls asleep on his shoulder and it’s really uncomfortable. But sort of nice.

 

-

 

Tommy tries to shoo her out as early as possible, which Kate does not respond well to.

“It’s not like you’re going to be late for work,” she grumbles, “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, but you need to get home before we see your dad making an appeal on the news.” Tommy flaps his hands anxiously at her. “Because he _will_ , Kate, c’mon.”

“So call him and say you found me.” Kate pulls the blanket over her head, and Tommy yanks it back. “I need more sleep.”

“Okay, personal appeal then,” he says, and Kate peers out with interest. “Billy has this stupid bet - seriously, they can’t know you stayed.”

Kate looks delighted. “What kind of bet?”

Tommy doesn’t need to answer that, just holds out her coat. This time, she lets him usher her towards the door.

“Well, thanks,” she says, “you actually didn’t sign up for this.”

He leans on the doorframe and bites back a grin. “I’m not even getting paid.” 

“That’s a point,” Kate says, completely inexplicably. “You _are_ off-duty.”

“And?”

“And,” Kate says, and then she shoves him against the door and kisses him.

His first thought is ‘ _finally_ ’ and his second thought is _‘wait, what_ ’, and his third thought is edging more and more towards the extremely real possibility that she’s just messing with him. He feels briefly hurt. But then again, her hands are up the back of his shirt and if she told him to get naked right then and there, he’d probably be game. In other words, he’ll get over it. 

He can’t get inside her coat, it’s all zips and toggles, and he can’t believe he’s even _trying_ to in Billy’s doorway, but she keeps biting down on his lip like she’s egging him on and - whatever, they’re not _his_ neighbours. Not permanently.

He hears Billy’s door start to creak open and disengages at the speed of light. 

“You’re the _worst_ ,” he hisses, mild betrayal returning in a rush. She just grins.

He spins her round, shoves her out the door and slams it behind her to face a newly emerged Billy, rubbing his eyes.

“Was that - did Kate just leave _now_?”

“No.” Tommy leans back against the door casually. Super casually. “Nope.”

Billy looks too tired to be as suspicious as would usually be expected. He’s useless in the mornings. “What’re you doing by the door, then?”

“Fresh air.”

“From the hallway?” Billy blinks. “Uh, okay.” He takes one last bewildered look at Tommy and shuffles through to the kitchen.

Teddy pokes his head round the door, and cheerfully adds, “you’ve got lipstick all over your face.”

Crap.

“It’s kind of a new look for me,” Tommy says, “what do you think?”

Teddy grins. “ _Wow_.”

“What?”

“There’s not really any lipstick,” Teddy says, because he is, in fact, the worst. Worse than Kate. The worsest. “But it’s just _fascinating_ that you rolled with it like that-”

“If you tell Billy,” Tommy says threateningly, “I’ll - I’ll make a really embarrassing speech at your wedding!”

“Right.” Teddy does not look as threatened as Tommy hoped. “Because otherwise you’d perform a heartfelt, touching poem about the nature of love.”

“I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“I’m not _seven_.”

“Fine, twenty.”

Teddy yawns pointedly. “You really think you have financial leverage over me? Cute.”

“I’ll start sleeping naked on the couch.”

“You’ll be cold.”

“It’s okay. I can cover the delicate parts with the cushions, keep ‘em warm.”

“I - ew.” Teddy wrinkles his nose. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t tell Billy.”

“Fine.” Teddy shrugs. “And not that it’s any of my business, but don’t you think it’s maybe... not the best idea ever?”

Tommy’s going to punch someone. Maybe everyone. Get a job, they say. He gets a job. Don’t hit on your client, they say, and his client _kisses_ him, and not even because she especially wants to, more’s the pity. And now - what? It’s his fault?

"Hold the lecture,” he says shortly, “she only did it because I told her about Billy’s stupid bet.”

Teddy opens his mouth but Tommy glares at him until he backs away, hands raised. “Fine, fine. No lecture.”

Tommy continues glaring until he backs all the way back into the bedroom, then swings the door open to see if Kate’s still there. She’s gone, but one of Billy’s neighbours is collecting his post, who gives Tommy an awkward thumbs up. Tommy can’t remember his name, but he has vague recollections of him being an Okay Guy, and he feels sort of bad.

Tommy rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t suppose you, er, saw-”

“Honestly,” Okay Guy says fervently, “I really thought you might actually - right there.”

Tommy gives him an apologetic grin that he really hopes doesn’t plainly say: “yeah, me too”, and retreats hastily.

He needs a new goddamn job. 

 

-

 

He nearly doesn’t show up, but in the end, paychecks trump feeling weird about it, so he does. Kate has spun her dad an incredibly elaborate, incredibly _stupid_ tale about being followed, so hiding out at her friend’s house overnight to escape this mysterious stalker and potential wedding sabotage. Her dad doesn’t buy a word of it, clearly, because as if Kate would _hide_. 

“I literally can’t believe you just got away with that,” he tells her, incredulous.

“I get away with everything,” she says sweetly, and gives him the most incredible sideways look. He’s so stupid for her.

… which, as he apparently has to keep reminding himself, is a _bad_ thing, for so many reasons. Stop it.

She doesn’t mention the kiss, so he doesn’t either. Communication schmunication. (In other words, he doesn’t feel too much like seeking confirmation it will never happen again, or letting her know he never lost the bet, because she would _definitely_ redouble her efforts.)

 

-

 

Step one of Teddy’s godawful plan is making a big deal about Kate’s fake move-in date. They come and go loudly and with lots of bags, and Kate makes pointed conversation with her neighbours. 

Kate tasks Tommy with the extremely crucial and important job of placing all the cameras she bought in appropriate places around her apartment, which he takes very seriously. 

“There’s a blind spot by the fridge,” he says, frowning at the accusing space. “But I figure charging them for snacks is the least of our worries.”

“Then we’re good to go.” Kate says, immediately all business. “Leave them running tonight just in case, but the big move is all set for tomorrow. We stay over and see what happens.”

Tommy grins at her before he remembers he’s still supposed to be disapproving of this entire debacle. “And your dad?”

“There’s no way he won’t veto it,” Kate says, offering him some chips. “So you’ll have to tell him it’s okay if I stay with you for the night.”

“Why wouldn’t he veto _that_? It would be totally weird for you to want to stay at your bodyguard’s house.” Another of those sideways looks. “Well, it is.”

“But he won’t let me go somewhere _without_ you.” Kate scowls at him. “What’s _your_ big idea, then?”

The answer: freaking _awful_ , but it’s all they’ve got.

 

-

 

The plan is to smuggle Kate out after dark.

Which is totally cool. Tommy played Metal Gear Solid that one time, he’s _got_ this. There’s brief talk of climbing from balcony to balcony, before they both peek over the edge and make matching distressed noises, so that’s out. It’s easy enough to get Kate down to the main entrance, it’s getting past the security guards that’s the tricky part.

“We need to throw something,” Tommy says authoritatively, “something explosive. Create a distraction.” Kate shoots him an exasperated look.

What actually happens is they climb out the bathroom window.

 

-

 

Tommy doesn’t know what he expected them to do whilst waiting for potential intruders to break in, but it wasn’t sitting on the couch eating popcorn and watching netflix. To his right is the laptop, streaming live from the various cameras, and to his left, some pepper spray. He feels woefully unprepared but Kate straight up refused to get him a tazer. He’s a ‘liability’, apparently. 

“Relax,” she tells him, “they might not even try anything.”

“Right, “ Tommy says, leg still jiggling furiously. Kate reaches out to put her hand on it, and he goes very still.

“What’s up?” Kate asks, frowning. “We’ve got this, we can take ‘em.”

“Just thinking,” Tommy says, “if they do, I’m out of a job.”

“Oh?”

“I guess you won’t need a bodyguard anymore. If everything goes to plan, anyway.” Tommy watches her cautiously out the corner of his eyes. 

“I guess not,” Kate says slowly, before turning her thousand watt grin on him. “You gonna miss me?”

“Nah,” Tommy says dismissively. “Just the money.”

“Sure, because that explains all the unpaid overtime you’ve been putting in.”

“Unpaid overti - you showed up on my doorstep!” Tommy’s protestations are getting weaker and weaker. He waves his arm wearily. “And - and - you tried to sabotage my life!”

Kate cocks her head to one side. “Huh?”

“You kissed me just so I’d lose that bet.” His resentment is genuine. “It was mean.”

“Did I,” Kate says, not a question. She looks a little wrong-footed. Perhaps, he thinks, with the heartfelt feeling behind the accusation. “Did you lose?”

“No.” Tommy fidgets with the pepper spray can. “Not the point.”

“Do enlighten me.” 

“It was mean,” Tommy repeats in a petulant mutter. “It was a mean reason.”

Kate sighs loudly, which was not the reaction he was hoping for. An apology, maybe, perhaps a little genuine remorse. “Okay, so you’re not wrong -”

“Ouch.”

“ - _hear me out_ , idiot - but you’re not right, either.” She squeezes his knee. “The bet was collateral. Was it that unwanted?”

“No,” Tommy confesses, and makes the mistake of meeting her eyes. Uh oh.

“This is the part where I’d kiss you,” she says, “if we weren’t, you know, on a stakeout.”

“Right.”

“But we need to be alert.” Kate shuffles a little closer.

“Alert. Got it.” Tommy still has an overwhelming sense of not knowing what the hell is going on, except it seems to be moving in a favourable direction. “Also, that part where I’m literally employed to look after you. Remember that?”

“But you’re off duty,” Kate says, far too convincingly. “You’re not here in an official capacity.”

“Yeah, but, like - the president doesn’t sell state secrets when he’s off duty. He’s always on duty, even when he’s off duty.  It’s, a, um.” She’s pretty much crawling into his lap and he can’t _quite_ shake the feeling that he shouldn’t let her. “Conflict of interest?”

Kate gives him a long, unimpressed look. “You’re not the president.”

“Sadly.”

“ _Thankfully_. And I’m not a state secret.”

“You sure?” Tommy says weakly, stalling pathetically. “You know too much, that’s why they want you -”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kate cuts across him, “you’re forgetting the part where my dad is totally using you to get at me. He’s not even put you on the payroll, you know. Technically, you don’t even work for the company. It’s all cash in hand and a bit under the table.”

Tommy pauses for a moment. “That fucker,” he says finally, lacking any real strength of emotion. It’s not exactly a surprise. 

“Yep,” Kate says cheerfully, settling down in his lap way too comfortably and making him squirm. “And you know what would _really_ piss him off?”

“I don’t wanna just to piss him off,” Tommy says feebly, and probably inadvisably. His hands are on her waist.

“Collateral,” she says in his ear. “Right?”

“That’s a mean reason,” he tells her.

Not that it stops him.

 

-

 

So, the thing about Tommy's life is that even when it goes right, it goes wrong. The right: he's asleep naked on Kate's couch for a legitimate, excellent reason (ie. they totally banged), and the wrong: there's an almighty crashing sound coming from behind them that can only mean terrible, terrible things.

He wakes up with a jolt, a little colder and more alone that he'd like, and in his foolish, half asleep confusion, decides to say blankly: "Kate?"

Something hits him over the head with no small amount of force, and he shrieks and falls off the couch, taking the blanket and most of the cushions with him.

Great. This is just great. There's an armed kidnapper in the apartment, he's naked and confused, and Kate is missing. Tommy doesn't really think of himself as a shrieker, but he lets another one out for good measure. He refuses to be attacked naked. He needs pants at the very least. 

Something sharp and scary flies past his ear in the dark, and he whimpers, clutching the blanket to his waist. Modesty first, apparently. 

"Kate?" he yells again, scrabbling behind him for the first hard object he can defend himself with. He grabs the TV remote and waves it about erratically. "Don't come any closer! I'm armed!"

 " _Bro_ ," a voice says, “are you naked?”

Tommy throws the remote into the darkness with panicked fervour, achieving a quiet “ow, _shit_ ” and “the fuck was that” for his trouble. He clutches the blanket even more possessively to his crotch as the light flicks on, revealing a man all in black clutching a compound bow. They stare at each other.

“I can’t shoot a naked guy,” the man says, his tone horrified. “It’s - it’s not right.”

“Please don’t kill me,” Tommy says, “I’m too pretty to die.”

“Kill you? Jesus - no one’s getting _killed_ -”

“You can’t kill Kate, either,” Tommy babbles, feeling behind for further missives. “Because I’m her bodyguard and I say so.”

The intruder stares at him incredulously. “And the nudity comes into this, _how_?”

At which point Kate comes flying out from the doorway - fully clothed, _somehow -_ and smacks said man over the head with something heavy with undisguised glee and extreme prejudice. Tommy would applaud if he wasn’t protecting his flimsy dignity. Unfortunately, the surprise of the hit startles the man into letting his arrow loose where it hits Tommy in the arm with a quiet, strangely satisfying sound. Tommy blinks down at it poking out his skin with bewildered detachment. 

“Would you look at that,” he says weakly, and promptly passes out.

 

-

 

He wakes up later on Kate’s couch, wrapped in a blanket with something cool on his head. He feels exceptionally fuzzy.

He can hear talking somewhere just to his left and lets out a melodramatic moan. No response. He’s annoyed. What does a guy have to do to get a little attention around here? Get shot with an arrow? Oh, wait - 

“I got shot,” he says abruptly, sitting up with a start. “Am I bleeding? Am I _dying_? I need a hospital.”

“Relax, sleeping beauty,” Kate says, pushing him back down on the sofa. “It was just a tranquilizer. You’re probably fine, I put a band-aid on it.”

“Excuse me?” Tommy struggles against her. “D’you remember that part where _I was shot_ -”

“Sorry about that,” a voice chimes in, apologetic. “Honestly, a total accident.”

Tommy glares over Kate’s shoulder. “Are you having _coffee_ with your assassin? Because it looks like you’re _having coffee with your assassin_.”

“I’m not an assassin, actually.”

“You shot me!”

“Accidentally!”

Kate sighs loudly. “Clint, Tommy, Tommy, Clint.” Clint waves at him. He has his own band-aid over his nose. Hopefully that means Kate _did_ break it, Tommy thinks vindictively. 

“I’m a private contracter,” Clint says, apparently offended. “I don’t _assassinate_ people. Well, like, not _usually_.”

Tommy wants to be unconscious again, this is all too much. “What the fuck is he still doing here?”

Kate pushes him back down again. “There’s been a misunderstanding, Tommy, we’re just sorting it out.”

“I got shot,” he says feebly, and she pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. 

“I know. You were very brave.”

“Don’t mock me,” he mutters, and shoots a glare up at Clint, who is snickering. “Especially not _you-”_

“I said I was sorry!”

Tommy’s head hurts. “Fine, _fine_. Start explaining, this better be good.”

“Well,” Clint says, leaning forward eagerly. “It actually all started with Nat’s cat -”

 

-

 

Tommy gets the day off after Kate delivers him to Billy’s doorstep, at which point he was incredibly nauseous and also incredibly feverish. Clint insisted that it would wear off, so Kate left Billy with strict instructions to let him sleep it off.

He throws up a little bit on Billy’s shoes by accident, which he suspects he will pay for when he’s more coherent. Billy pinches his nose and breathes deeply and Tommy reaches over blearily to pat his knee. 

“That’s what family’s for,” he slurs, and falls off the couch with a thud.

“I never want kids,” he hears Billy says. “Ever.”

Teddy seems to take over after the shoe-vomit incident. He’s much nicer, so Tommy tells him so. 

“I think I was naked,” he whispers conspiratorially, “but no one noticed, so I got away with it.”

He thinks Teddy is tucking him into the couch blanket. “Go to sleep, Tommy.”

He has wild dreams involving octopuses and spaceships.

 

-

 

Tommy is called in for a meeting with Kate’s dad the morning after, at which point he feels almost entirely normal and more than entirely sheepish. Not to mention Kate didn’t call, which considering he _took an arrow for her_ , yeah, he’s a bit pissed. 

He’s also a little nervous, because he has no idea what Kate’s told him. Sure, the _plan_ was to say that Tommy was never involved in her home stake-out, but her silence has unnerved him. He’s lowered his expectations of this job considerably from where he started: right now, all he wants is one paycheck that can cover Billy’s shoes. He crosses his fingers in his pockets.

“So as I understand it,” Mr. Bishop is saying, “Kate was investigating a missing cat, that just so happening to belong to a spy?” He looks appealing at Tommy, as if hoping he’ll wave it away as nonsense. 

“Yeah, basically,” Tommy says with a shrug. “So when she’s doing all this intense research into the cat’s owner, it flags up as someone digging into their past, and the organisation freak out and send you a note - well, you know the rest.”

“I’m to expect a formal apology and letter confirming they are no longer interested in kidnapping my daughter within the next few days. I suppose once I receive that, I needn’t worry about Kate anymore.” He looks pointedly up at Tommy. “I know you were there, by the way.”

Gee, thanks Kate. Way to drop him in it.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Look, it was a stupid plan - but I never thought it would be actually dangerous or anything like that, I’d never -”

“You misunderstand,” Mr. Bishop says again. “I _know_ you were there.”

Tommy nods patiently. “And like I said, I’m really sorry. But it was _definitely_ her idea.”

“Kate passed these on to me,” Mr. Bishops says, and slide a pile of tapes across the table. Tommy stares blankly at them for a few minutes before realizing what they are. “I doubted her story, so she presented me with the video evidence.”

“See? They had coffee. It was totally okay and they sorted everything, no danger whatsoever. Except that I got shot.” Tommy winces. “Did she show that part? I really hope she didn’t show that part.”

“I actually stopped watching at 11:53,” Mr. Bishop says icily, and that’s when it hits him. 

He’s going to die. “Oh god. Do you mean -”

“The porn movie you made with my daughter, yes.”

Is this the worst moment of his life? Because it’s also the funniest, and he really didn’t expect these two to collide, but here he is. Torn between defenestrating himself in mortification and laughing hysterically for at least the next ten years. Instead, he does something far worse.

“I dunno what kind of porn _you’re_ watching with shitty high camera angles like that,” he says, “it’s a bad amateur sex tape, at best. No finesse.” There is an incredibly awkward silence, in which Mr. Bishops stares wordlessly back at him. It’s the worst moment of his life, for sure. He wants to laugh. “You’re going to fire me, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Shepherd -”

“Look, in my defence - “

“In your defence,” Mr. Bishops interrupts, looking almost, _almost_ amused. “It’s probably the most inventive way she’s gotten a bodyguard fired.”

Tommy feels a little bit sick. “She just - _gave_ you those?”

“I apologize,” Mr. Bishops says, “I should’ve - I regret hiring you, it was unfair to drag you into our disagreement like this.”

“Why would she do that?” Tommy covers his face with his hands. “That’s - that’s -” He stands up. “You know what? I’ll save you the bother. I quit this shitty job.”

He strides out all the dignity he definitely no longer has.

He laughs hysterically to himself on the way home, because if nothing else, he’s managed to salvage his sense of humour. 

 

-

 

It’s not that he _cares_ , except that he does, and he’s really angry and confused and maybe a little bit sad. Because he’s unemployed again, still living on his brother’s couch, he owes Billy some shoes, David’s going to _kill him_ , and he’s Kate’s collateral and it _sucks_.

He’s not sulking, he’s just spending a lot of time indoors in his underwear eating beans from the can. It’s a legit lifestyle choice.

 

-

 

“Are you ever going to tell us what happened?” Teddy says, grabbing the can from his hands. “Or are you going to sit on our couch forever eating beans?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “the second one.”

“Unacceptable,” Teddy says cheerfully, sitting down beside him. “And put some goddamn pants on.”

“No. I object to your arbitrary demands.”

“Let’s hug him until he feels better,” Billy suggests, “he loves group hugs. They’re his favourite.”

“I do _not_ \- argh!”

They do, true to their word, hug him, Billy launching himself over the back of the couch to wrap his arms round his neck. Tommy keeps up a steady stream of grumbling until they eventually relent.

“Spill.” Billy says, poking him in the side. “What happened?”

“You seriously won’t believe it,” Tommy says, “you’ll think I made it up.”

They do a very good job of listening attentively and nodding solemnly, and it’s only the quiet rustle of a twenty exchanging hands that ruins the moment.

“Get out,” Tommy grumbles, swatting at them. “Stop betting on my disaster of a life.”

They bring him spaghetti later and watch movies in a Tommy sandwich, which is horrendous and awful and he wants to be _alone_ , but also he might forgive them. Maybe.

 

-

 

“So I bumped into Kate today,” Billy says cautiously, sliding a mug across the kitchen surface to him. “Apparently she’s been calling you.”

Tommy grunts. He’s been ignoring them, obviously. 

“She’d like to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“I think you should,” Billy says, doing that thing where he’s extra delicate with every word and thinks he’s being sly about it. He’s not. “I think you might have misunderstood her intentions.”

“You mean the part where she handed over the tapes to her dad in their tragic entirety?” Tommy snorts. “Nah, I think I got it.”

“If you say so,” Billy says, clearly doubtful, but he’s a terrible optimist like that.

She calls again that evening, and Tommy ignores them too.

 

-

 

Tommy is expecting pizza, so he doesn’t exactly show up at the door in his finery. He’s not at his best, admittedly. He’s somewhat unwashed and dishevelled, and really hungry. It’s probably a little bit terrifying.

It’s not the pizza guy at the door, however, it’s a very well dressed, sophisticated girl looking utterly unimpressed to be here.

“Hi,” she says, “are you the one that made the accidental sex tape with my sister?”

He nearly shuts the door in her face, and he can sense Billy and Teddy poking their stupid nosy faces round the door already, mouths hanging open. “Uh.”

“She’s mortified,” the girl continues, “like, _seriously_ mortified - can you imagine your parents watching that?”

“I - what?” Tommy can’t compute. “What did she think was going to happen? You give someone a tape to watch, they’re going to _watch it._ ”

“And now you’re not answering her calls,” her sister says, glaring at him fiercely. Holy crap, they’re definitely related. “You _asshole_.”

“Me?” Tommy squeaks. “I’m the asshole? After she calculated my downfall by giving those tapes to your dad - ”

The girl squints at him. “You think she did it on purpose?”

“Well, _yeah_.” Tommy says, and the girl groans loudly.

“Oh, for the love of-”

“Wait, are you saying she didn’t?” Tommy is so _done_ with this family. “Why are you here?”

“It’s my good deed for the year,” she says, scowling at him. “Also, she’s moping, and it’s really tedious.”

“Same,” Billy chimes in from behind him, the interfering busybody. “He won’t put on pants. We’ve tried everything.”

The sister looks mildly disgusted. “Right. That’s pathetic.”

Tommy puffs himself up indignantly as Billy and Teddy hum in agreement. “Did you come here just to insult me?”

She gives him another of those Bishop glares. “Look, my dad’s having this party tonight, and I persuaded him to let you come.” She looks like he ought to be thanking her, when instead he is looking at her with horror. “Katie hates these things, so I think she’d really like it if you showed face. You can kiss and make up, or whatever. Just, like, maybe don’t film it this time? Just an idea.”

Tommy is truly horrified. “No way. Even if I did fancy parties, I am never, _ever_ showing my face round your dad ever again.”

“Yes!” Billy is practically dancing he’s so excited. “That’s so perfect! You need to make a big romantic gesture to apologize for doubting her.”

Tommy pinches his nose. “Can’t I just call her and - ”

“Absolutely not.” Her sister prods him in the chest again. “Not good enough.”

“I’ve got a suit,” Billy says helpfully. “It’ll fit you!”

“Have a shower,” the girl adds unhelpfully, giving him a disappointed up and down. “That’d be a good start.”

“You’re really mean,” Tommy tells her, “your whole family is really mean.”

“Just be there,” she says, “ask for Susan, I’ll let you in.”

Billy is herding him into the bathroom before she’s barely back along the corridor.

 

-

 

There’s no way in hell he’s doing this, obviously. He may be trapped in Billy’s bedroom with a suit, with his obnoxious brother holding the door shut until he puts it on, but that does not mean he is beaten. He’s putting the suit on, because otherwise he’ll be trapped in there forever, but it’s not defeat. It’s subterfuge. It’s under control.

He’s obviously not _going_ , because he hates this shit, and he hates big romantic gestures, and he’ll just call her later, but he’s getting into the cab they’ve called for him because it’s best if they think he’s going along with it. He’ll just get in the cab and look like he’s complying, because it’s easier that way. He can get out and go somewhere else. There’s no need for him to go through with this stupid, shitty plan. 

Obviously, he’s not going to actually _do this_ , but he is walking into the fancy building and asking for Susan, because - well, he owes her an explanation if he’s not going to show. He’ll just tell her that he’s decided it’s a stupid idea - he put the suit on and got in the cab, but he’s decided that actually, this really isn’t for him, so if she doesn’t mind too much he’ll just be leaving now. It’ll be fine. He’ll just slink off and maybe swing by Kate’s apartment in a few days. 

He is absolutely, obviously, _definitely_ not doing this, except Susan has dragged him along a series of corridors with an iron grip and now he’s being offered canapés that look like weird tiny cakes but taste like _fish_ , which is disgusting. Who does that? He’s definitely leaving. He has no time for things that pretend to be cakes but taste like fish. 

He’s trying to unobtrusively spit one out into a napkin when Susan elbows him hard in the ribs and hisses at him that Kate’s over there.

He’s still not even sure how he got here, given that it was never the plan. He feels queasy. Maybe it’s the fish cakes. Maybe it’s not. Kate’s wearing the purple dress they picked out. She looks bored. He’s a terrible person because all he can think about is whether she went for the bra or not. She looks really nice. He wants to face plant directly into the plates of canapés. Isn’t there any alcohol at this thing? He needs a drink.

Kate catches his eye and looks taken aback, and then immediately irritated. Tommy’s initial response is to cower, but no - _fuck that_ , she can’t be all hurt and angry when if anyone did anything wrong here, it’s _her_. So, he marches up to her, the righteous indignation flowing perhaps a little too strongly.

“Give me one good reason,” she says, through a polite forced grin, “why I shouldn’t throw my drink all over you and make a scene?”

“I could say the same,” Tommy says, “except I _have_ a good reason, because you gave your dad those tapes.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Kate’s eyes widen. “What could possibly make you think I would ever want my dad to see a tape of that? Are you insane?”

“You as good as warned me,” Tommy says mournfully, “you as good as _told_ me you were doing it to make him mad. You knew the cameras were on, and you tricked me, and so excuse me if I don’t believe you -”

“Oh my god,” Kate says, pinching her nose. “Oh my _god_ , I meant he’d be mad about us in the abstract sense, you absolute idiot. You’re his idea of the worst boyfriend ever, it’d drive him nuts.”

Tommy decided to ignore the ‘b’ word. It makes no sense. “Fine, so you didn’t give him the tapes on purpose.”

“No!”

“I believe you,” Tommy says, and Kate looks relieved. He’s not finished. “But you still - you - you - “ He waves his hands angrily and inarticulately. “Every way you ever interact with me is because of something else,” he finishes weakly. “Even if you didn’t want him to see the tapes, you’re still thinking about how you can piss him off, and it’s kind of exhausting.” He _feels_ exhausted. He wants to go home and have no feelings and eat a lot of beans again. It’s too much like hard work.

Kate looks a little shocked, but says nothing. He feels stupid, and shoves his hands in his pockets, starting to shuffle away. This was a bad idea. 

“Yeah, well, purple’s my favorite color!” She yells after him, and he turns round in confusion. People are staring. 

“What?”

“It’s my favorite color,” she repeats, gesturing down at her dress. “I’d be wearing it anyway.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Anyway?”

“Even if my dad didn’t hate it,” she finishes, somewhat feebly. “I’d still like it.”

Tommy shuffles back towards her a little. “Wait, what?”

“At least I know where I stand with purple, as well,” Kate continues, and he suspects this metaphor might be running away with her a little. It’s definitely gotten away from him. “Purple wouldn’t be so ambiguous and weird about it.”

“Purple probably wasn’t employed by your dad,” Tommy says, and then shakes his head. “Okay, enough with the purple. Say what you mean.”

“You say what _you_ mean.” Kate folds her arms. “You’re the one who crashed my party.”

“I suppose what I’m basically suggesting,” Tommy says, “is that we should enter into an arrangement where we hang out a bunch and sometimes get naked, except your dad isn’t employing me and we don’t make accidental sex tapes which we then accidentally distribute amongst your family.”

“That,” Kate says, starting to grin, “is the single most romantic -”

“Shut up, okay? I’m bad at this.”

“No, that was actually very concise.” Kate taps her chin thoughtfully. “I think the second clause needs a little refinement, though.”

“What, the naked bit? Or the sex tapes? Because the naked thing is a lot, and the tape thing is _never_.”

“And when would this contract come into effect?” Kate says seriously, and Tommy is profoundly disturbed by how attractive that sentence is to him. 

“Immediate effect, obviously.”

“That might be an issue,” Kate says, as if giving it deep consideration. “Seeing as how scandalizing my relatives is _out_ , I think getting naked right now could be a problem.”

“Um, it said we get naked _sometimes_. Not constantly. Keep up.”

“Boring,” Kate sighs, tugging at his bow tie. “But okay.”

“Okay what?”

Kate leans in towards his ear. “Where do I sign?” Again, profoundly disturbing just how much she is making these totally innocuous words sound completely dirty. She’s the worst.

“Just get me out this godforsaken party.”

“Done,” she says, and leans in for a kiss that hits about midway on the scandalous scale. Tommy kind of hopes her dad sees, because fuck him and his polite insistence that Kate was trying to get him fired. It’s basically all his fault. And he has shitty taste in party snacks.

“You taste of salmon,” Kate says thoughtfully, and Tommy pulls a face. “And ricotta? I want one - ”

Tommy guides her firmly away from the food. “First stop, proper food. Second stop -” He pauses and looks at her questioningly.

Kate cocks her head to one side. “We smash all the cameras in my apartment and get gleefully naked?”

“I can get behind that.”

 

-

 

Tommy’s still unemployed and broke, and he’s still technically crashing on his brother’s couch, except he’s actually crashing in his girlfriend’s enormous bed whilst definitely not employed by her family or accidentally taping themselves in compromising positions. His life isn’t so bad.

His phone buzzes.

 

**[10:03] Billy:** I’m going to assume everything went well and that’s where you’ve been all night

**[10:05] Billy:** or else you’re lying dead somewhere

**[10:22] Billy:** ok now I’ve said it I'm actually kind of worried you’re dead

**[10:25] Billy:** plz confirm not dead

**[10:26] Tommy:** not dead

**[10:28] Billy:** good

**[10:28] Billy:**  did you remember to not tape it this time

**[10:28] Billy:** I know how hard you find these things

 

“Are we ever going to live that down?” Tommy groans, and somewhere to his left, Kate laughs.

“Probably not,” she says, and grins at him. “We’ll just have to do our best to live up to our scandalous reputation.”

Tommy’s more or less okay with that.


End file.
